From the Desk of Detective Hoover: Mongooses, Magazines, and Murder
by KronksShoulderAngel
Summary: Inspired by the gritty universe of Zistopia (by Nicolas Wildes), this story follows the life of has-been ZPD investigator Harry Hoover and his coworkers.
1. Chapter 1: Into the Jungle

Title: From the Desk of Detective Hoover: Mongooses, Magazines, and Murder

Author: KronksShoulderAngel

Setting: Zistopia AU (By Nicolas Wildes)

Disclaimer: This fanfiction contains some adult language, violence and sexual themes. It may not be suitable for all readers. Zootopia and its characters are © Disney. Zistopia and its characters were created by Nicolas Wildes.

 **Chapter 1:** **Into the Jungle**

The night that I was given the Hareford-Gnuton case-file is one that I will never forget. I was sitting on my ass in my office as I usually do, while leafing through what I was told by a benevolent coworker would be the "most surefire way of improving my love life". Apparently the news of my wife leaving me for a wolf had circulated around my beloved workplace. Yeah, I know. A sheep leaving a sheep for a wolf. If that isn't ironic I don't know what the hell is. But I tried to keep it from putting a damper on my spotless work ethic. I had my legs propped up on the desk, resting amongst the sea of bureaucracy disguised as necessary paperwork that had been flooding my office for years. I was relaxing after yet another day of sifting through the shit that had arisen this week just as it had every week I'd proudly served in the dysfunctional jungle known as the Zootopia Police Department.

My job at that point was one that most would call "purely extraneous, for the sake of the poor, decrepit middle-age-has-been-police-sheep, kept on payroll out of the kindness of our charitable hearts". It was comprised of wearing a golden badge labeling me one of ZPD's head investigators, which to my greener colleagues, meant my time in the office would be made up of looking over the mountains of paperwork different cases and investigations yielded. After all, the old guy knows what he's doing, and it's not like he's got a family or anything to take care of. Now, you're probably thinking, damn, this poor old bastard's got it rough. I admit that at times I thought the same thing about myself, and wallowed in self-pity wondering bitterly where the glorious days of protecting the streets with my partner went to, but after a while, I realized something. They were right, my days in the spotlight _were_ over. I had been replaced by younger and leaner officers, armed with shiny new smart phones and an unparalleled bigotry and hatred towards all predators. Zootopia no longer needed cops that would get caught up with unnecessary morals. I was a relic from another era, who understood "files and shit" and was often the subject of well-natured jokes about cave-mammals. Hoary Harry was what they called me when they didn't think I could hear them. That was my place, it was where I fit in, and I needed to accept it. So I did, pride be damned.

The magazine I had been gifted was proving to be a good distraction from the black and white pages illustrating crimes, suspects, damages and grievances. I guess you could have called it a tabloid. While the sections outlining outrageous fur-styles were really something I enjoyed casting judgment upon and generally just being a grouchy old guy at, I honestly found it more amusing to read through the screwy article headlines that had actually been considered "good enough for publication".

"Mayor Bellwether closeted predophiliac? Meet her lion lover! … The bunny that gave birth to only a single kit! 'I mainly blame my sorry excuse for a husband.' … Blueberries: popular with foxes, and great for your libido!? … 20 ways to style up your handicap without alerting the authorities."

As much as I would have loved to continue rotting what was left of my brain, my story-time was unfortunately interrupted by one of the Oryx-Antlerson brothers, who walked into my office carrying a manila folder. Both of them were officers in the same shift, and for that reason I've always loved pretending to confuse them for one another.

He knocked absent mindedly on my half-open door, before completely barging in without waiting for a response. "Hey Detective Hoover, I've got…" His voice trailed off as his eyes inevitably landed on the magazine I was holding.

"Top ten ways to improve your sex-life, learn to hunt mates like a predator… Uh, Detective Hoover, is this a bad time?" The kid lowered his voice to a frightened hush, as if he'd walked in on his mother and I were making love. I folded the magazine and tossed it on top of the piles of paperwork adorning my desk.

"Well, it sure as hell is a bad time for literature. What can I do for you, son?" I'd recently learned that the respect I once earned around the city for my years of service was already at the point of absolute zero thanks to my marriage crisis and, shall we say, advanced age, so I was sure that this little mishap wouldn't surprise a single soul in the department.

"Oh, uh, right. So, a gnu and a hare… They were uh…" He was still eying the magazine which I had unknowingly flipped to the even more embarrassing back cover. I believe it featured a tasteful photograph of a rhinoceros couple smiling, the male rhino holding a pill with the caption: "Horn not as hard as it used to be? Not anymore. Beat impotence. Get InstaErect!" Emblazoned boldly below their smiling faces. Thank God I was so respected around there, otherwise this would have looked really bad.

"I never took you for the joking type, Bucky. But I don't think I've heard this one. Let me guess, did they walk into a bar?" I grinned, hoping to break the awkward silence, and keep him from formulating too many unsavory assumptions, or at least, too many more.

He shifted his eyes and attention back to me, and responded in an annoyed tone, "I'm Pronk… But that doesn't matter, I've got the beginnings of a case-file here with the location and initial details of a double homicide investigation. A gnu and a hare, confirmed dead. Officers have locked down the site, but they need you there, like, now."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Now you're really joking with me. You trying to tell me they want me to emerge from my cave and actually do something? And that something is investigate not only a homicide, but a _double_ homicide? Please, Buck." I removed my legs from the desk and straightened my posture.

"It's Pronk, how hard is it to…" He shook his head and sighed. "Ugh, look, I'm just relaying the message because you never have your phone on and your radio-"

I raised my hoof to stop him. "I haven't carried a radio in years. Do I look like a field investigator to you? I'm a fucking pencil pusher, kid. And as for my phone, I'm not exactly a genius when it comes to technology. The damn thing hates me. When Bogo gives me back my landline, call me. Until then, it'll be face-to-face chats. Fucking wireless initiative my ass. If it saves them that much money, why not make the fucking cuffs wireless too? I swear to God these "smart phones" just make people dumber."

The kid looked stupefied from my admittedly misplaced rant. He stuttered incoherently as he attempted to piece together a sentence. "I-, you-, okay. You know what? This is for the best anyway. Here's your file, it needed to be delivered to you either way." He tossed the manila folder onto my desk, which scattered some loose papers.

"Anyway, you're the only investigator that's still here tonight and Bogo said you'd be fine, even if you _are_ a little rusty. The address and details are in there, and you can borrow my radio since I'm going home for the night. Here." He unclipped the radio from his belt and outstretched his arm to hand me it.

I took the radio and turned it over in examination. It was more or less the same type I had used years ago. "Well I'll be damned. Long time no see, old friend." I murmured. "Alright, alright. But you better not be trying to pull wool over my eyes, kid. I'm a sheep. That'd just be cruel."

He laughed uneasily at what was perhaps the worst joke I'd told in my adult life. "Right, uh, I'm gonna head home now. Uh, good luck, I guess."

I chuckled and rose from my swiveling polyester throne. "Yeah. Thanks, Buck. I'll probably be needing it."

He sighed exhaustedly and began to leave the room, before stopping to turn and glare at me. "My name is Pronk... You know what? Nevermind. I'm going home. I'm fucking tired." Shaking his head, he turned around and exited, mumbling curses under his breath.

"Sleep tight, kid!" I shouted into the hallway, before picking up the folder he had left me. Opening it, I eagerly read through the single sheet of paper it held. The address of the crime-scene and names of the victims were listed, along with their species, age, weight, height, et cetera. I had all I needed to get started. Grabbing my coat and keys, I flicked the light switch by the door and made my way down the hallway. Finally, I was entrusted with another case, and it wasn't just the paperwork that arose from it, it was the real fucking deal.

"Watch out, Zootopia. Harry fuckin' Hoover's back." I mumbled excitedly as I entered the investigation department's reception area, not realizing that our secretary, Lacey, hadn't left for the night yet, and was unfortunately well within earshot.

She was a younger and easily excited ewe that was around an age that could pass for my daughter or a niece, and she tended to act as if she were such. Either that, or my drunken wingman. Lacey enjoyed nothing more than poking into the love-lives of every mammal inhabiting the ZPD, regardless of gender, age, species or position. About 3 months ago, she attempted to hook our only rabbit cop, Lieutenant Hopps, up with another rabbit, which was no surprise coming from Lacey. Everyone was shocked, though, when she happily announced that the lieutenant actually had accepted her offer. From what I heard, the only reason Hopps took the date was out of respect and affection for Lacey, only to find out the rabbit was, well, female. Needless to say, the office had been suffering her bunny rage since then. It really is a wonder why Hopps didn't fully release her terrible fury on Lacey. I like to think the lamb's got some divine blessing that keeps anyone from holding a grudge on her… That, and I guess it helps that her sister is the mayor of Zootopia.

Just as I attempted to sneakily dart across the small reception area, she spotted me. She poked her head up from behind another one of her wacky magazines, and her face became lit with such joy, you would think I'd said she'd won the lottery. Now, I admit, I've always felt a tad sympathetic for the poor girl. She always meant well and considered every inhabitant of the ZPD her friend, even if she were a bit quirky. For those reasons, most of the officers she adores like to avoid her at all costs (especially after the Hopps incident), leaving her to us investigators. So, I stopped in my tracks and immediately faced her with an admittedly feigned smile.

"Going home early, Mr. Hoover? That was fast! I didn't think that you'd be able to pick up a date that quickly! I told you the Pred Press works even better than our prey magazines, especially when it comes to _romance!_ " She enunciated the last part with rolled r's and staccato consonants.

"Not to mention," She went on with a devilish grin. "They like to make my darling big-sis look like a complete _jackass_."

Without even giving me a moment to respond she continued enthusiastically, standing from her chair and wringing her hooves, as if she'd just risen me from the dead. "Sooo, who's the lucky lady? Will it be another sheep, or have you decided to take passionate revenge into your own hooves and pair up with a pred? A lady wolf, perhaps? Ohhh, don't you worry, Mr. Hoover, I won't tell a soul! I promise! Well, _maybe_ I'll write a bit about it on my blog, but, other than that, not a single soul!"

"I'm sure you wouldn't, sweetheart, but I'm actually still on the clock," I tapped my watch and held up the folder with the same hoof. "And, regrettably, still single. Bogo's supposedly got me on a double homicide case."

After a very short-lived moment of sadness at my mentioning of the words "still single", her face lit up again. "Wait, like, a _case_ -case? Like, you're going _outside_ to investigate something? For real, Mr. Hoover? That's fantastic!"

She ran out from behind her desk and wrapped me in a hug that would make any onlooker sure that she was related to me by blood. "I knew they'd get you back out! I just knew it! You know, Detective White and I were always quietly rooting you on. After all, you work the hardest out of anyone in this office."

Releasing me from her surprisingly secure embrace, she patted me on the back and gave me a mock salute. Smiling proudly, she lowered her voice and attempted what I assumed was a Bogo impression. "Go catch those criminals, Detective Hoover."

I chuckled and headed for the double doors leading to the parking garage. Pulling one open, I gave her a wave with my free hoof and quickly bid her farewell. "We'll see, Lacey. Be a lamb and hold down the fort for me, alright?"

As I walked into the cavernous garage I heard an echoed "Aye, aye, captain!" coming from the double doors, which squeakily swung shut.

"What are we, a naval crew now?" I shook my head with a laugh and pulled a packet of smokes from my coat as I made my way to my car.

It's a dirty habit, smoking, but there was always something amusing about watching the expressions of others when a goody-two-shoes government sheep stuck a cigarette in his mouth. During my years as a uniformed officer I found that carrying a pack on me at all times ensured I had at least one way to coax even the most dangerous predator, assuming they smoked, which, in most cases, they did. That may seem like a rude generalization, but it really was an observation that I made during my salad days at the ZPD. I assumed initially it had to do with the calming effects nicotine provides the body, and how that would be pretty damn useful when you get a painful shock every time you get too stressed about something. Eventually, though, I discovered that the main reason predators were the dominant smoking group in Zootopia was because it gave them a sense of identity. Having to slowly poison their bodies just to live somewhat comfortably, hurting all those around them with secondhand smoke, it was tragically poetic.

Eventually I reached my car, an older grey sedan manufactured for medium sized mammals like myself. Holding the cigarette in my mouth and placing the folder on the roof of my car, I dug around in my coat pockets for my keys.

"Damn things, really don't have time for this…" Finally grasping them, I unlocked my car, grabbed the folder from the roof, and took a seat.

"Now then," I mumbled to myself. "Where are we heading…" Opening the manila folder to check the address, I immediately recognized the place. 121 Marsh Avenue was the location of a popular car dealership, and was in fact where I had bought my ride when I first became a detective.

"Well, at least I know where I'm going." Turning the key in the ignition, I glanced at the radio clock as the car started.

"Half past ten, huh? This is probably gonna be a long night." Taking a puff of my cigarette and shifting gears, I sped out of the now empty parking garage into the dark streets of a Zootopia I hadn't truly explored for years.

 **Author's note: 08/16/2016**

 **Howdy y'all! KronksShoulderAngel here. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter of** _ **From the Desk of Detective Hoover: Mongooses, Magazines, and Murder**_ **! As I mentioned on my profile, this is my first creation on FanFiction. I worked pretty darn hard on it and right now I'm hard at work on chapter 2, which I promise will be more detective-y, less boooooring, and possibly a tad bit longer. Please stay tuned, and if you really enjoyed, consider shooting me a PM with feedback! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, it seriously means a lot to me. So, uh, that's it for now. See you in the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2: FUBAR

**Chapter 2: FUBAR**

Traffic at night in Zootopia normally is just as bad as in the daytime, but tonight was different. Only a few stray vehicles inhabited the streets, making my trip to the scene relatively short. The blocks surrounding the dealership were the homes of mostly weasels, and therefore, were predator territory. Stopping at a red light, a loud noise drew my attention to the car's passenger side window. A young male mongoose was loudly yelling at a visibly frightened pig couple making their way down the sidewalk.

The mongoose waved his arms in the air above his head comically and shouted again at the couple. "I said, you fuckin' piggies think you can walk over _my_ turf like this? Get the fuck outta here before I fuckin' waste your flabby asses!"

Shortly thereafter, he shot his arms to his neck, his paws covering his handicap, as he grimaced painfully. Taking advantage of the situation, the male pig grabbed the arm of his partner and pulled her along quickly, escaping from the angry clutches of the perturbed mongoose.

"Gahhh… F-fuckin'… P-piggies… Stupid damned prey… I'll… I'll… Ah for fuck's sake, I'm fuckin' tired of this shit." He had let go of his collar and slowly walked with a slouch into an alleyway. As I watched him stagger off someone behind me honked, and I realized the light had turned green. Flicking my spent cigarette butt out the window, I proceeded into the darkness of the night.

My experience with mongooses was pretty damn similar to what the pigs had encountered. Most of the time, they liked to travel in gangs and fight over turf, and because of that my partner and I were called frequently to this part of the city. Fortunately, however, most of the time they just screamed and yelled at each other until they turned blue, receiving a series of painful shocks from their handicaps to calm them down. Afterwards they all just cursed us prey, and then returned to their normal lives. I originally had found it moderately amusing, until my partner informed me that the collar-related fatality rate among mongooses was pretty damn high.

"Kills more of 'em than those cigarettes you love so damn much, Harry." He would say. It really was pitiable.

Minutes later I had made it to the scene. A single police cruiser was parked blocking off the sidewalk in front of the dealership with its turret lights flashing. Towering above the cruiser stood a familiar sign which read "Mental Monty's Motors: Cars for the Big and Small, Crazy Cheap".

I parked my car down the street a little further, so as to not draw too much attention, and grabbed the folder. Opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air, I inhaled through my nose and held it in. The sky tonight was black as could be, without a star in sight. I assumed the moon had been shrouded by clouds, explaining the pitch blackness of the evening. Exhaling with a sigh, I habitually patted my side to check for my gun. Shit. My gun. I knew I had been forgetting something. I wasn't even wearing my shoulder-holster.

It had been so long since I last actually went on an investigation I had forgotten one of the most important pieces of gear I owned. Most investigators at the ZPD didn't usually carry firearms, since they normally are accompanied by armed cops, but I was different. Years of service showed me that trusting in your fellow officers for their protection is only appropriate if they can trust you to protect them. It's what keeps them from hating us detectives, who a lot of the time like to act pretty high and mighty. Suffice it to say, it isn't very difficult to "accidentally" neglect neutralizing a shooter dangerously close to an unarmed detective before they can get a few shots off on the unsuspecting bastard. But maybe I was being too cynical.

I checked the glovebox and trunk to see if I had unwittingly left my gun there after practicing at the ZPD's range, but of course I hadn't. Glancing down at my watch I realized if I stood out here any longer the bodies would be skeletons by the time I finally got to the site. Sighing and locking my car, I began to head down the sidewalk to Mad Monty's.

As I walked down the sidewalk I was able to get a good look at the crime scene. The officers on site appeared to mostly have the location locked down, aside from a single mongoose, who stood in front of the police tape looking incredibly worried, and strangely calm. The other Oryx-Antlerson brother (or at least I'm pretty sure they're brothers), Bucky, seemed to be talking to him.

"Sir, like I've said what must have been a hundred times tonight, please go home. This is a crime scene and we need to have the area clear of any civilians." Bucky looked pretty damned tired, and I couldn't blame him. He and the other officers had probably been waiting for my sorry ass for a good part of the night, dealing with the mongoose who began to stammer in protest to Bucky.

"I know officer, it's just, I can't help but feel at least a little responsible for what happens at my own store! Is it bad? Was anyone hurt? Please, officer, I won't be able to sleep tonight without knowing." The mongoose was strangely cooperative in the way he spoke, and as I got closer I immediately recognized him. He was wearing a pink dress shirt which had been tailored for his slim body perfectly, paired with grey slacks and shiny black dress shoes. A mongoose-sized handicap wrapped around his neck, but a bright blue tie removed any attention it might attract. He looked older and more exhausted than when I first knew him, but it was Monty alright.

"Mental Monty? Is that you, bud?" I squinted while approaching him. He turned to look at me and his worried frown disappeared instantly.

"Harry Hoofson! Well look at you, my friend! It's been a long time since I've seen you around here. How have you been? How's Hayleigh?" He immediately reached up and grasped my free hoof in a shake and gave me a half-hug on my leg with the other arm.

I looked down at him and chuckled. "It's _Hoover_ , Monty, but don't worry about it. We sheep all share pretty similar last names. As for Leigh, we're uh, separated."

Monty, as his name suggested, was the owner of Mental Monty's Motors, and may have been the calmest and friendliest mongoose to have ever lived in Zootopia. I knew him from when I was still on the beat with my partner. He was possibly the most ambitious mammal I'd ever known, to attempt to start a business in the middle of a run-down predator slums, but there was no talking him down.

"Every mammal deserves a car," He'd say. "Regardless of who or what they are. It's the way things ought to be in this city."

Despite the frequent harsh criticisms and constant harassment from many neighboring mongooses, he was able to build up a greatly successful dealership. Of course, my partner and I were called in to make sure everything he'd done to get it that way was "completely legal", as mongooses don't normally become so successful. Since then, many mammals, prey and pred both, looked to Monty when it came to buying vehicles.

"Oh, boy, would you listen to me. I'm really sorry Harry. About both of those little discrepancies. I must look like about the worst guy in the world right now, huh?" He covered his face with both paws in embarrassment, then looked up at me, cocking his head quizzically. "Oh, are you still a detective? Is that why you're here?"

Bucky audibly expressed his impatience in the form of an irritated "Ehem…".

I glanced at him and let go of Monty's paw, which was still shaking my hoof vigorously. "Yeah, too bad we couldn't meet under better circumstances. Unfortunately, bud, I've got a job to do. You better head on home, I'll take care of this mess."

I could tell he was hesitant by the tone of his voice, and it took a little coaxing, but I eventually got Monty to agree to go home, allowing me to check out the scene. On either side of the gated entrance to Monty's dealership stood large brick walls that separated it from the sidewalk and street. Thankfully, the visibility of the scene was obstructed due to the walls, so anyone passing by wouldn't become too curious of our presence.

Lifting the police tape over my head, I stepped into the main entrance of the dealership. Tall overhead lights illuminated the area. Hundreds of automobiles of varying sizes, shapes and colors populated the massive lot surrounding a comically average-sized building, which was dwarfed in comparison. Bucky led me over to a section of the parking lot with a single white sheet covering a suspiciously lumpy plot of asphalt, which laid between two cars that were obviously meant for larger mammals. The radius surrounding the sheet was eerily dark due to the light that towered nearby being out. Three other officers stood guard while leaning on the two large cars, eyes glued to their beloved cellphones, which illuminated their faces creepily.

"You all telling scary stories, or some shit? Come on, we've got work to do." I shouted at the group of officers, each giving me a miffed look.

"We've been waiting for, like, hours for you to get here." Officer Webster, our beaver cop, said while stretching.

"Yeah, you would probably be doing the same thing in our shoes." Yawned Officer Woolfrey, another sheep.

Officer Masai, a giraffe, popped his neck loudly and looked down at me, irritated. "You know we're in shift B, right? That means we get to the station at 5 AM and leave at 9 PM. We'd _better_ get overtime for this."

I reached for my smokes and pulled one out, sticking it in my mouth. Throwing down the folder I was holding onto the asphalt near them and grabbing my lighter, I lit the cigarette dangling from my lips. "Sorry about that, boys. I'll make sure to put in a good word for you with Hopps. I know she doesn't like investigators stealing her _platoon_ without good reason." I apologized half-heartedly, blowing cigarette smoke from my muzzle.

Each of them groaned and rolled their eyes. Chuckling, I approached the sheet and glanced back up at the officers. "Alright. I'm gonna have a look." Lifting the sheet, I was greeted by the intrusive smell of blood. I guess I didn't realize that it had truly been quite a few years since I had last seen a real corpse, or maybe it was the intoxicating mix of adrenaline and nostalgia, but as soon as I saw the shredded remains of not only one mammal, but two, I gagged.

"Jesus. How long have they been here?" I asked, turning to the four.

Bucky shrugged. "We're not exactly sure. We got the call at around half past 8, so I guess at least 3 hours."

"The call, right. Who exactly was it that called it in?" I asked, getting on my knees to look underneath one of the cars beside the bodies. Nothing.

"Oh, that would be Paul Eleson, an elephant," Bucky said, pulling a small notebook from his uniform's left breast pocket. "I got his contact information and all that for you. He works here full time."

"What does he do? He a mechanic?" I inquired, bending over to take a look underneath the other car. Again, nothing.

"No," Bucky said. "Sales. He seemed pretty shook up. And they say it takes only a mouse to scare an elephant… poor bastard. He won't forget this."

"Well, the site seems pretty clean," I said, taking a drag of my cigarette. "Only thing I see that's off is this light." I said, tapping my hoof on the light pole standing nearby. "Makes it pretty difficult to get a good look at the bodies without a flashlight. Speaking of which, you mind if I borrow one of you guys' lights? I was kinda caught off guard tonight with this, as you can probably imagine. Pronk?"

Bucky let out an annoyed sigh, unhooked his flashlight from his utility belt and tossed it to me. "You know, Detective Hoover, I'm Bucky. I'm the one with the curved horns, see?" He made a gesture with a hoof to his head.

I laughed and turned on the flashlight with a click. "Yeah, I know. I just like fucking with you, son. I guess you don't deserve it tonight though, you've helped me more than any of your platoon-mates."

Turning to the bodies and crouching down to get a good look at them, I could hear Bucky sneering at the other officers, who sighed quietly in response. They were good kids. Sure, a little undisciplined, but that was the time we were living in. They probably couldn't remember a time without the collars, and I was sure that the Internet wasn't a great influence on the youth of Zootopia, either. But what did I know, I was just a grouchy, middle-age sheep with a shiny badge and a fucked up marriage.

Speaking of fucked up, to say that the corpses of the victims were fucked up would be an understatement. In all my years of police work and investigative work combined, I had never seen victims as FUBAR as these. Just looking at them again made me want to vomit, but I didn't want to waste a perfectly good cigarette, so I held it in. Well, mostly.

"This is a nasty fucking sight; I can tell you that much." I mumbled as I looked over the two with Bucky's flashlight. "You boys already throw your guts up?"

"We played rock paper scissors for who had to check it out and throw the sheet on 'em. Girafferick lost." Officer Webster said from behind me, snickering.

"Thank God we've got such professionals serving this evening. Rick, remind me to tell Hopps about your heroic actions tonight. Maybe she'll up your rank." I said with a chuckle, pausing to look up at the giraffe, and accidentally flashing Bucky's flashlight on him. He looked green.

"That reminds me," I said as I looked over the bodies. "Has the coroner been here yet? Or an ambulance for that matter? I mean, I know anyone with eyes can tell they're dead but, you know."

"No, it's nighttime and we're in the middle of a predator part of town." Bucky said plainly. "They won't send ambulances past a certain time to pred territory, and if someone ends up dead, it's up to us to declare them deceased, and then call the coroner to come and pick them up. It's been that way for a while now."

"Well I'll be damned. Now we're denying them emergency care at certain hours? That's just fucking cruel." I mumbled as I took a long puff of my cigarette.

"Bellwether says it saves a ton of money." Officer Woolfrey cut in. "Anyway, if they end up needing medical treatment at night, it's most likely for shady stuff. Probably, you know, collar related…"

"And yet here we are, two prey victims and no ambulance or coroner to even give 'em the apparent luxury of a proper post-mortem examination." I said under my breath, as I began to look over the bodies a little more carefully.

The body on the left was larger and had more fur, so I assumed it was the gnu. He had been stripped of his clothes, leaving him completely nude. The poor bastard's limbs had all been sawed off crudely, leaving only his head on his torso. The severed limbs were positioned on the body in their usual spots, left arm on left shoulder, right leg on right hip, you get the idea. His neck had a deep cut running along the front, and like his torso, his face was in pristine condition. I found his expression, however, to be really strange. He seemed to be calm, his eyes closed, as if he were sleeping when was killed.

"This guy almost looks peaceful. If it weren't for the severed jugular and the lack of arms and legs, I'd think he's napping." I said, taking another puff of my cigarette.

"Uh, Detective Hoover, no disrespect, but shouldn't you be recording all this? You know, on a voice recorder or something? Lieutenant Hopps carries one everywhere." Officer Webster said.

I shook my head and laughed while shining the flashlight on the gash running across the gnu's neck. "Never needed one. You know, us sheep have damn good memories. Not like an elephant, maybe, but good enough." I turned to them with a grin. "I'd bet ours are even better than rabbits', right Ernie?"

Officer Woolfrey looked down at me and smiled uneasily. "You know if I agree with that statement, I'll probably be cursed by some ancient bunny spell of hers. Say what you will about her memory, her hearing is out of this world… Not to mention her ability to make our lives fuckin' miserable." He turned to his comrades, who all muttered and nodded in agreement.

"You boys worry too much." I said, puffing my cigarette and turning back towards the corpses. "She means well, and you can bet your asses she cares a good deal about you lot if she chose you for her, uh, platoon. Probably thinks you've got potential or something. Anyway, believe me when I say that anything she's putting you through, while it may not seem necessary, is probably for the best for all parties. That includes yours." I tapped some ashes from my mostly spent cigarette and turned to them again, flashing a smile. "Must be her motherly instinct." Each of them gave me such a look of amusement mixed with nervousness, you'd think I'd just showed them some of her nudes. Side note: _God_ , I hope Hopps never reads through this within my lifetime.

After thoroughly inspecting the gnu's corpse with no new developments, I went on to what I assumed was the corpse of the hare. Key word being assumed. It was almost impossible to identify the species, and I didn't even know where to begin to look for their gender. The fur on the body was matted and caked in dried blood, turning the entirety of it a red-brown color. What seemed like a hundred claw marks specked the body, and the hare's arms and legs were splayed out in a grotesque fashion. Just like the gnu, all of the hare's clothes had been removed, leaving the body naked. Unlike the other body, however, the limbs were all intact, or, well, still attached. Crouching down closer, I noticed a collar running around the neck, decorated with a small bell on the very front. As I was crouching, something odd caught my eye, or rather, the lack of something. Underneath both the bodies was completely clean of any blood. Apparently, someone had moved them to this spot. But why this spot? Hell, why _these_ people? As I wondered, I reached for the folder lying beside me on the asphalt and opened it to the single page inside. The hare was apparently female. Reading through the rest of the page, I noticed that both victims also had been identified.

"How the hell did you figure out the hare's specifics? I can hardly tell if it's a mammal with the amount of blood covering the body, and the wounds…" I trailed off, looking up at the still nauseated Officer Masai, who shrugged weakly and pointed to Bucky.

"That was from Paul Eleson. Apparently these two were customers here that he'd sold vehicles to recently." Bucky said, flipping through the pages of his notebook. "Berko Gnuton and… Anna Hareford. I think I told the office to write that in the report. Or, I at least told Pronk. If that idiot didn't get it right, and still went home while we have to stay here I swear to _God_ I'm gonna twist his horns backwards…"

I held up my hoof and laughed. "No, no, he did his job. It's all here. Gave me his radio for the night too. I was just wondering how Rick here got their names, is all. But it does help… Lets me know that these two are linked to the location." I said, flicking my cigarette butt onto the ground and standing up with a grunt.

"Detective Hoover, are we done? You're finished with the bodies, right?" Officer Masai asked, eying me worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm done with the bodies for now. I do need to take a picture of this scene, though. Even I'm not that great at remembering the locational details and things like that." Reaching into my pants pockets, I pulled out my dreaded smartphone. "Uh, one of you kids want to help me with taking a snapshot of the scene? Unfortunately, I'm a little inexperienced with this whole, uh…" I grimaced before allowing the terrible word leave my mouth. " _Technology_ thing."

I could tell that Officers Webster and Woolfrey were having a good time mocking me in their heads, but Bucky stepped up to me with a sigh. Replacing his notebook in his shirt pocket, he took my phone from me and quickly took a couple photos of the scene. Holding the phone in front of my face, he scrolled through them slowly for me. "These good?" He asked.

I nodded and took the phone from him. "Yeah. These'll do. Thanks, kid. Alright boys, now we just need to call the coroner, which," I turned to Bucky, who looked at me with suppressed exasperation. "I think I can handle by myself, this time. In the meantime, Rick, you think you can take a look at that light pole there? You being a giraffe saves me from having to get a ladder. I find it kinda suspicious that it's the only one not functioning properly in this entire place. I know Monty, and I know that he's a crazy perfectionist."

Officer Masai nodded and began to inspect the light as I dialed the coroner's number on my phone. "Bucky, Ernie, Les? Why don't you write up any other details about tonight's investigation you found out of the ordinary, or anything I said that sounded important. It's just as important that you all try working this out in your heads, if you want to get into the investigation department someday. Call it practice." I said, as my phone rang for the coroner. The beaver and sheep donned innocent grins, looking up at Bucky, who sighed and took out his notebook again. He flipped it to a blank page, grabbed a pen from his right breast pocket with his other hoof, clicked it, and began scribbling furiously.

Eventually the coroner picked up his phone, and I arranged for him to pick up the bodies. Officer Masai also finished his inspection of the overhead light, and told me that the bulb in it was completely fine, and didn't seem to be broken or blown out.

"It really is strange," Officer Masai said while closely looking at the light. "Almost seems as if someone just turned it off. But aren't these lights normally attached to, like, a single switch?" He turned to look down at me.

After covering the corpses with the sheet, I peered up at the light and took a look at the other lights near us. This part of the lot was meant specifically for larger mammal vehicles, so the lights were a smidge taller than the section adjacent to us. I put a hoof to my chin in contemplation.

"You'd think that, but it seems like each individual part of the lot may have its own switch. That still wouldn't explain why this light isn't working, though, but it might point us in the right direction. Good job, Rick." I said, walking towards the sales building. "You guys checked out the building yet?"

Bucky jogged up behind me and motioned for his fellow officers to do the same. "Yeah, that's where we met Eleson. He called us from there and then took us to the bodies. We already took a pretty good look around in there, though he did leave us a key." Bucky said while fast-walking behind me.

"I'm sure you did, but I just want to have a little look-see to be 100 percent sure. Then we can get the hell out of here. Sound good?" I turned to look at the group of officers, who all nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

It was a bit of a walk, but we eventually made it to the main sales building of the dealership. The building was made entirely of glass, making everything on the outside transparent, except for a sign that hung above the enormous doors that read "Mad Monty's Motors" in bold text. The inside was comprised of a unisex and uni-species restroom, a relatively large reception area, and a small office. Both the restroom and the reception area were completely devoid of any details that jumped out at me, so I decided to head into the office. On the door the letters " Y" were displayed proudly. A series of smaller doors for smaller mammals were also built in, and I chuckled to myself.

"Every mammal deserves a car, huh Monty?" I said, reaching for my pack of smokes before noticing a "NO SMOKING" sign next to the door. "All right," I barked at the half-asleep officers lounging in the reception area. "I'm gonna take a look inside Monty's office, then we can go." They tiredly groaned in approval.

Inside Monty's office was a fairly large desk, a couple of chairs for customers of different sizes, (including a set of extra small chairs which I assumed would be placed on his desk). Upon the desk were a slew of papers and folders, which reminded me of my own desk at the ZPD. Most of them were just sales reports and bills, but some were glowing letters of praise from past patrons. To be honest, though, I expected nothing less. Monty was an amazingly charismatic and modest individual, even the most tight-ass prey would have considered buying a car from him. When my partner and I had interviewed him out of suspicion, he told us he suffered from acute hyperalgesia, or hypersensitivity to pain, and that when he received his handicap, he realized he needed to learn to relax and control his anger, or else he would live miserably. It really was a sad story, but looking at him now, I'd say it really helped the guy succeed. He used the hate and prejudice of our society as fuel for success. I felt a tinge of jealousy as I looked around the room. Awards for "best predator operated car dealership" and "predator pride" lined the walls, along with framed photographs of Monty and his employees. Underneath one frame, however, was a set of switches labeled "Lights Row 1, Row 2..." et cetera. So it was as I suspected, the lights worked in rows.

Leaving the office, I shouted into the reception area. "Okay boys, we're done here. I found the light control panel, and nothing else of much circumstance. I'd buy you all drinks but I'm sure you've got better things to do."

Bucky shook Officers Webster and Woolfrey, who were fast asleep on an elephant sized couch. Officer Masai had remained outside for fresh air, and upon hearing my shout, looked back at me through the glass and began walking to their cruiser.

"Hey Detective Hoover," Yawned Officer Webster as we were making our way back to our cars. "Why were you so interested in that light, anyway?"

"Well Les," I said, pulling my smokes out of my coat pocket. "It's pretty obvious to me that someone fucked with it, seeing as the only light that's out in this entire complex has dead mammals right underneath it. At first I thought it might have been to conceal the bodies in the darkness of the night, but after thinking it through, if you were Paul Eleson, and you saw a light go out, wouldn't you think something of it, and probably go to investigate? Whoever did it wanted us to find them." I took a cigarette from the pack and placed it in my mouth before lighting it.

"Damn. That makes sense, I guess, but why would anyone _want_ us to find their victims' bodies?" Webster asked.

"To send a message, I think. Or something like that. Whoever we're dealing with is pretty fucked up in the head." I said, blowing smoke into the night air.

The coroner had arrived while we were in the sales building, and was already done loading the bodies into his van. After signing off on some paperwork and waving off the coroner, I bid farewell to Hopps' platoon and tossed Bucky his flashlight, thanking him. "You were a great help tonight, Buck. You make sure your buddies behave themselves, alright? I'd hate to lose you fellas, and I know for a fact Hopps would be pretty devastated."

Bucky nodded and joined his platoon-mates in the cruiser. Heading back to my car, I stood for a minute and stared up at the sky. It was still black as could be, no stars or moon in sight. I blew some smoke out of my muzzle, which decorated the blackness with a cloud of white for a second before dissipating.

"Guess it's time to head home…" I muttered, opening the car door and taking a seat. I looked at the radio Pronk had given me at the station, which I had forgotten in the car. Grabbing and holding it for a second, I turned on the power and held down the transmitter button. "This is Hoover; I'm signing off for the night to count some sheep. Sleep tight, ladies. Over and out." It was a phrase I said almost every night I was on duty with my partner, and even into my detective years. Nostalgia flooded my middle-aged sheep brain and I smiled smugly, taking a long puff of my cigarette and starting my car.

"Good to have you back, Harry. Over." The speaker on the radio buzzed taking me by surprise, and I recognized the voice as Chief Bogo.

"Damn good to be back." I whispered to myself, as I tore down the shadowy street towards home.

 **Author's note: 08/21/2016**

 **Howdy y'all! KronksShoulderAngel here. I really hope you enjoyed chapter 2, which I'd like to have called the "Guess the names of some unnamed characters chapter"! Of course, we know the names of a bunch of the guys in Judy's platoon, but not all of their last names, so I took a bit of a wild guess. Oh, and sorry it took a little while, I wanted this one to be longer, and I had some unforeseen circumstances spring up, mostly pertaining to the beginning of the school year for me. Speaking of which, I start classes again tomorrow, so updates will be a little less frequent than what I'd typically like. Once I get into the swing of things though, I'm sure I'll be able to post more regularly.** _ **Thank you so so soooo much**_ **for reading through my story so far, and I hope I'll see you in the next chapter!**


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